Better
by Scarlet Scribe
Summary: Rewrite. They had been shamed, kicked out of their home, and forced to find residence somewhere else. He had taken everything they loved and crushed it, and the worst thing was Stan couldn't help but believe it was all his fault. All he knew was that his great-niece and nephew deserved better. Alternate ending to Dreamscaperers/Gideon Rises.


He couldn't believe it. He took everything from him. He took what little the kids had to call their summer home. He took everything they cared about away, leaving them with barely anything behind to show themselves with but the clothes on their backs.

His business was gone. Everything he had ever worked for and built up over the years, vanished. He had never felt worse in is whole life.

It had been like a sharp slap to his face when it happened, stinging the very core of his old body and shriveling it up into absolute _dust _for the wind to carry away. Everything that was happening just felt so unreal, like some kind of awful nightmare, but the cruel reality didn't dare show Stan any mercy. All he knew was that he should have kept his guard up instead of pushing away the threats the child-psychic had made to him, and none of this would have ever happened.

The so-called taker went by the name of Gideon Gleeful, or his stage name 'Lil' Gideon'. That pudgy-faced child was the one who caused this whole mess, and now, the Mystery Shack was in _his _grubby little hands. Oh how Stan loathed him. He was the epitome of posh brats everywhere; a blatant attention hog. He always had to be one step ahead of him, have something just a little bit better than what he had, have the better authority figure, and it was maddening. The worst thing was that the people of the town actually looked up to him. Even though Stan wasn't exactly innocent when it came to his scamming endeavors either—far from it, in fact—he knew he had much more of a heart than the psychic could ever have deep down. What Gideon called a heart was just a love-sick obsession with his great-niece and a mind bent on revenge on their whole family.

Some say it's utterly ridiculous for an old man to be in a rivalry with a nine-year old child donning a two-foot mound of hair, but this was genuine hatred, and right now, power was dwindling for the 'old man'. Somewhere deep in his heart, Stan felt shame for all of that had been caused. What _he _caused. Shame for things he would never dare say out loud, like a certain pair of children that were under his care for the summer.

With the deed clutched proudly in his sweaty palm, the psychic forced Stan, Dipper, and Mabel out of the Mystery Shack without a second glance, leaving them stupefied on the building's front porch. The old man would be lying if he said that he wasn't affected when he watched the girl scream and bang on the door again, knowing that her precious pet pig was still locked inside. He would also be lying if he said he didn't feel something when the boy had to pry her away from the door himself while she kicked and thrashed with all the strength her petite body could muster. It nearly ripped his heart out if he was being brutally honest with himself. He knew how much she treasured the swine.

After the ousting, the three of them were forced to move to another residence in defeat. Soos, being the loyal man and employee that he was, had offered to let the trio stay at his grandmother's house with him and his abuelita while they were out of a home, but that idea didn't turn out as anticipated. It soon proved to be far too crowded in the small home for all of them to live in. That and the place was crawling with cockroaches. It didn't work out well for Dipper in particular, who swat at one each time it crossed his path. He claimed that the things made him squeamish. Mabel even tried to befriend one at one point, cooing at it as if it were an actual human being. The con-man could only shudder at that image, not wishing to reminisce on it again.

His nephew had called up on him to see how the twins were doing one night, and he had graciously lied to prevent him and his wife from worrying. He told him he put the kids up at a four star hotel and assured him they were fine. He seemed to have bought it, and when both ends hung up, he felt worse than he had before. It was a big lie, and he knew it.

It had soon come to a point where they could barely even function properly in the house, and that's when Stan bought the bus tickets. The tickets that would send the twins back home to their parents for good. He was more than surprised to find that his hands were shaking when he picked them up for the first time, and for once in his old life, he had found something he couldn't bear to live without.

Then later as he watched the twins playing with Soos from the doorway of the living room, waiting for the right time to tell them, he couldn't ignore how oblivious they seemed to be about being sent back home. How that spark in their eyes was still there, that despite everything, they still seemed to be managing. He actually couldn't do it. He couldn't watch their hearts break like that.

All of those events led up to the horrible now, and what the three were staying in at the moment couldn't have been much better than Soos' grandmother's house. With all the money Stan could dig out of his pockets, he managed to snag a cheap motel room in another part of town, though the place was far from luxury.

It was a small room that only contained one bed, forcing the three of them to have to share it. The wallpaper was peeled and frayed from years of being exposed to the elements, and some parts of it had been completely torn off altogether, giving the room a ghastly look. The carpet was an ugly brown color, musty, and bore a few stains that had never been properly cleaned out. The room in general just had this sour odor to it that neither of them could quite detect, and Dipper was pretty sure there were some cockroaches staring at him from behind the walls.

Overall, it wasn't a very pleasant room to be staying in, but Stan's pockets were empty. Without any money, they couldn't afford to stay anywhere better. Gideon had really done it.

It was later in the evening as the sun began to set when Stan told the twins they should try to sleep.

Mabel skipped to the bathroom with her pajamas folded neatly in her arms, a jubilant nature still manifested within her spirit. Stan couldn't believe how cheerful she seemed despite everything that had happened. Perhaps she was hiding her glumness to try to keep _his _spirits up, but it was honestly hard for him to tell behind the smile on her face. The look was more evident in Dipper, though, who trudged along behind his sister, taking his slow, easy time to get to the bathroom. While Mabel had babbled it up during the car ride, he had stayed mostly quiet, staring absentmindedly out the window along the way. The old man couldn't help but feel just a little guilty at that, and the bus tickets all of a sudden came to his mind again.

That thought was whirred away when Mabel bounced back out of the lavatory, clad in her oversized purple nightshirt, the one that bore a floppy disk on the front of it. A stuffed tiger was clutched tightly to her chest like it was her savior. Behind her came her brother, whose hat and vest was now removed. Both of them climbed wordlessly up into the singe bed, instinctively pressing close together for when Stan was going to get in. It was quiet and almost serene for once in what seemed like days. The lamp by the bed dimly illuminated the room, giving the walls a soft orange glow, and the bustle of city life had come to an almost complete still outside.

Stan sighed and sat down on the bed, causing a few of its rusty springs to creak and groan in protest. He twisted to face the twins and gave them the faintest trace of a tired smile.

"You guys, uh, just try an' get some sleep, okay?" he said quietly, pulling the blanket up over them both. One after another, they nodded.

"Grunkle Stan, how long are we going to stay here?" Dipper asked softly. Mabel nodded eagerly, taking an interest in knowing as well.

A lump formed in Stan's throat and the room immediately became a good ten degrees warmer than it had been before. He should have been expecting that question sooner or later. Though as he looked at them, both waiting patiently for an answer, he found it difficult to come up with one. He himself didn't know what was going to happen in the future, no less the _next day, _but he really didn't want to lie right to their faces and crush their spirits. The old man brought a hand to the back of his neck in trepidation.

"I don't know, kiddo." He watched their expressions with carefulness, letting out a deep breath. "Soon I hope."

"We have to get the Shack back, we just have to!" Mabel quietly bellowed, her curly brown locks flying in all directions as she turned to face Stan. "The three of us are like the Mystery Gang! No one can defeat us!"

Stan chuckled at the girl's positiveness. Her goofy way of brightening even the dimmest of situations was enough to pull his lips into a feeble wrinkled smile. He opened his mouth like he was going to speak again and end the conversation, when he gasped as the sheets began to shift and fold back and two pairs of thin arms were suddenly wrapping around his shoulders. It took him a moment to register that the twins were both tightly clutching onto him, one on the left and one on the right, in complete silence.

Still a bit dazed from the sudden action, Stan could do nothing for a moment before he finally found the ability to move his limbs again. He slowly hugged them back, wrapping his large arms around his great-niece and nephew in a tight embrace. It wasn't a very familiar feeling to him, yet he found it didn't feel completely foreign. In fact, it almost felt right.

"We're sorry, Grunkle Stan," the boy whispered, the sentence almost inaudible. "Really sorry."

"Super de-duper sorry," Mabel mumbled, her apology half-muffled by the cloth of his shirt. "About it all. If we could do anything to help, we so would." Dipper nodded fiercely against his shoulder.

Stan was silent for a moment before holding them tighter. "Aw, it's alright, you kids didn't do anything wrong. Don't blame yourselves. If anything, it's my fault."

Dipper pulled his head up and gave Stan a look of disbelief. "It's not your fault the Shack's gone, Grunkle Stan. You, er…" He became silent for a moment as if he wasn't sure what to say.

"Gideon's just a dumb poop-face," Mabel finished for him matter-of-factly.

"Uh…yeah, that works." She gave her brother a playful look, and he returned it, giving her an equally goofy look.

"Well put, kid." Stan smiled at the girl and she giggled. They began to detach from the hug, and the twins both laid back down. Stan placed the blanket back over them again like he had before and removed his signature fez, placing it on the table next to the bed. "Don't worry about it, though. It's not your guys' problem. We'll figure out somethin' in the morning." Another bout of silence was shared between the three, and that's when Stan cleared his throat, interrupting it. "Well, just try to rest up, kids, m'kay? We might have some traveling to do tomorrow. Can't have you fallin' asleep on your feet, eh?"

Mabel grinned tiredly. "Yeah. Goodnight, Grunkle Stan."

"Yeah, goodnight," Dipper said, burrowing under the covers.

The old man finally reached out and flipped the lamp off, sending the room into pitch black darkness, save for a sliver of moonlight shining in through the window. He laid down next to the twins and turned on his side, preparing for a night full of tossing and turning.

He had guessed right. Although the twins seemed to fall asleep rather quickly, he could not. After around a half an hour or more of fidgeting, he sighed and hefted himself up. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and put his hands in his lap, looking towards the ground and closing his eyes. He had been pushing his insecurity aside for most of the day, but now was when it all came weighing back down on him.

Gideon had won, and the Mystery Shack was in his possession.

His business was kaput. He had been made look weak.

Another sigh escaped Stan's lips as he brought his head up and looked towards the sleeping twins. He watched them warily for a while, his mind off in other places. The girl was sound asleep, her soft snores breezing through her braces and caused them to whistle ever so slightly. Her toy tiger was pulled tightly to her side, and she looked so elegant with her russet curls splayed out around her. It was similar with the boy, who was curled up in a parallel position next to her and snoring as well, his chest gently rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. They were dead to the world.

Stan never wanted to get them involved in this mess. They deserved better than they were getting. He still cursed himself for not taking action and stopping Gideon when he still could, and now, he was paying the price. He had thought too highly of himself. He assumed he was a good enough entrepreneur that the pint-sized psychic couldn't do a thing to him, but his large ego was proved wrong.

Perhaps it had been a better idea to send the twins back home. They would have been happier there, they wouldn't have to live like this. It was his job as their summer caretaker to provide them with shelter…and care, which he had to admit was less than great at the Shack, but never this bad. Even he could tell they had grown attached to the place over the month or two they had been staying there in the small, desolate town. He looked back over to their sleeping forms again and sighed. He wasn't sure how exactly, but he knew he had to at least try to get the Mystery Shack back. Go the extra length, do whatever it took. Not only for his sake, but their sake.

The old man laid back down again, not before giving them another glance, and finally fell into a light, fitful sleep. Things would hopefully get back to normal soon.


End file.
